was like standing on the shore of a river only to discover that the water had undercut the bank. She and her daughter had tumbled and were still falling toward an uncertain future. Morgan knew that soon she would have to petition the tribe for assistance and the prospect shamed her. She didn’t say any of that aloud, however, and only just managed to mutter that it had been hard.
Bear Den’s brows dropped lower over his pale eyes. “I am asking if you have received any threats.”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Did you know what your father was planning?”
“The police at Darabee already asked me that. I was interviewed over there.”
“By Jefferson Rowe?”
“Who?”
“Police Chief Rowe?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. A detective. I don’t remember his name. He asked me if I knew beforehand, too. I didn’t.” And she felt stupid that she had noticed nothing unusual...and sad that her father had not confided in her and angry at what he had done. She glanced toward the door. “Have you seen a gray cat?”
“No.”
She tried calling Cookie from the back door but with the strangers about and the flashing lights, she didn’t expect to see the cat until things calmed down.
Her interruption did not distract the detective from his line of questioning.
“Did your father leave you anything? Instructions. A letter.”
“Like a suicide note?” Morgan was still hugging herself. The April air turned cold at night in the mountains so she moved to close the kitchen door. Ray Strong anticipated her actions and got there first. Her hand brushed his before she could draw back. The contact was quick so she could not understand why her insides tightened and her breath caught. The door clicked and she met Ray’s dark compelling eyes. One of his brows quirked.
Bear Den cleared his throat, snapping Morgan’s attention back to the detective’s question. Did she have foreknowledge of her father’s plan to commit murder?
“He didn’t say anything. The morning before the shooting he took his truck. He’s not supposed to drive anymore. I was sleeping when he left. I get home from work about eight a.m. and Dad usually gets Lisa up and I get her ready for school. Then I usually sleep from nine to about three. He wasn’t here when Lisa got off the bus but he was here before my shift. He wouldn’t tell me where he had gone. The next day he...” She hesitated, tugging at her ear. This topic still made her feel nauseous and baffled all at once. “He left and afterward they arrested him in Darabee. I was waiting for Lisa’s bus when tribal police and the FBI got here. They searched the house. They took some things. Maybe they found something like that.”
“They didn’t. Usually when someone is planning such a thing, they make preparations. Say goodbye.”
She thought back to the evening before when she saw him last. “He asked me to pick up a chocolate cake.”
Bear Den scowled. “Cake.”
“He wanted cake. Gave me the money.”
“What money?”
Now she scowled. “For the cake. I don’t buy that junk and he shouldn’t have it either. But I bought the cake and we had that after dinner on Thursday night for no reason.” She stared at the detective. “Was that it? The cake? Like some kind of going away party?”
Jack Bear Den shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Morgan stared at her kitchen tiles and tried to keep from crying.
“Ms. Hooke, my friend Ray spoke to the guy who broke into your house. The man indicated he was searching for money. He said your father cashed a bank check for two hundred thousand dollars in Darabee.”
She snorted at first, thinking he was kidding and then her jaw dropped open as she saw he was deadly serious.
“I have to report that to the FBI. So what I want to know from you is, did you know about this money?”
She couldn’t even speak, so she shook her head.
“Do you know where the money currently is?”
“No.” Her words were a whisper. “I don’t. You think he actually had that much money?”
Jack nodded. “I believe your father was accepting payment.”
“Payment? What could he possibly do that was worth that kind of...”
Morgan’s knees buckled and Bear Den caught her, drew out a chair and guided her into it. Her fanny hit with enough force to jar her gaze to the detective.
“This can’t be happening.”
Bear Den looked down the hall. “Ray? Can you come out?”
Her protector emerged from the hall. The front of his shirt was soaking wet and stuck to his chest, revealing the ripped muscles of his abdomen. Morgan’s breath caught at the perfection of his form.
“Why are you all wet?” she asked.
Bear Den followed the direction of her gaze. Ray shrugged. “Washed off the blood.”
The detective groaned and Morgan blinked, finally forcing her attention away, but took one more long look because a sight like that should be committed to memory.
Bear Den took a seat across from her and Ray retrieved the one between them, spun it and sat, his long legs straddling the back. Then he hugged the top and rested his chin on his hands. At least she couldn’t see the wet spot or his tight abs any longer.
Bear Den cleared his throat. “I was just relaying what the intruder told you.”
Ray’s gaze flicked from the detective to her. “You have some problems, Morgan.”
“What are you two implying exactly?”
Ray deferred to the detective.
“It appears that your father cashed a check twenty-four hours prior to his attack on the prime suspect in the Lilac Copper Mine shooting.”
“I don’t understand.”
Ray tucked in his legs and lifted his chin from his hands. “Your father was a paid hitman. Now word is out about the payday, and that means you can expect more like that nitwit I found in your hallway.”
Morgan’s stomach heaved. She pressed a hand over her pounding heart.
“More.”
“More and more competent.”
“Competent?”
“Dangerous. The kind of men that don’t pull hair. And they won’t stop until you deliver that money.”
“What money? I don’t
